Catharsis
by Carinya
Summary: Warnings: Violence, racism, homophobia and swearing. AU. Kai, trying to lead a normal life, has moved to China, away from everything and everyone he has ever known. Rei wants to be more than what society says he can be. Eventual Kai/Rei.
1. Prologue

**Warnings: **

Violence and swearing. Lots of it.

xxx

If he were looking back on it, he probably would've known this wasn't going to end well. Then again, it was equally likely that he would've got involved anyway. Him and his guilty fucking conscience, it was going to get him killed one of these days. It wasn't even as if it was anything unusual, a kid getting beat on, not in this neighbourhood anyhow. Out here it was beat or be beaten. Everyone knew that – or wised up pretty quick after the first couple of rounds of having the crap kicked out of them.

He didn't know what made him go back. He wasn't the type to go looking for trouble: not particularly interested in following the rules either, but smart enough to know that, whatever it was, it wasn't worth his time. _Usually_.

Today obviously was not 'usually'.

Same alley, same wanna-be-gangsters beating the same shit out of the same nameless faceless nobody as last week and the week before and the god_damn_ week before that.

What made today different? He didn't know, just didn't know.

Maybe it was the rain; it always made him moody, set him on edge until he could hear the thrumming beat of his heart in his ears and the crackle of his nerves under his skin - his whole body alive with electricity and restless energy. Maybe the quiet – not even the rush of traffic or the angry blare of a car horn could be heard, only the hiss of the rain as it fell and the dull crunch of fists and boots meeting flesh and bone.

_Wouldn't someone usually cry out...? _

Maybe that was the clincher. Get beat up, lose a couple teeth, break a few ribs, so what? No big deal. Cry and shout and _scream_ at the time 'cause it fucking hurts, but later, once it's all over, you heal, you survive. You live, 'cause there's nothing else to do except carry on.

This guy wasn't crying. Wasn't screaming either.

He couldn't let it go. He knew it was stupid. One minute he was on the way back to his flat, minding his own business, the next he was sinking a punch into some unlucky sucker's gut. It was all _kinds_ of stupid. Who'd he think he was anyway, bloody Robocop or something? For all he knew they could be packing heat, and then where would he be? Just another name on the mortuary register. It wasn't even news-worthy in these parts. If he were lucky maybe he'd get a one liner or something in the corner of the local newspaper: 'Two dead in back alley shoot-up – police have no suspects'. The '_because they don't give a shit_' would go unsaid. No need to repeat what was common knowledge, after all.

But _God, _how he'd missed this: the rush of air past his face as his enemy swings wide, missing him again; the satisfying sound of a groan as his hit connects and the reverberating echo of pain that shoots down into his bones; the adrenaline streaming through his veins, pushing him faster and faster and _faster_. He can feel his lips stretched wide over his teeth in a mocking parody of a smile and he can't remember if he's blinked at all and through his battle-crazed haze he can see his fists gleam crimson, painted in the blood of his adversaries. He's pretty sure he looks fucking_** insane**_**. **His grin widens.

Fuck, he'd forgotten how good this felt. The fiendish thrill of victory is singing through every fibre of his being, rushing to his head and making his vision swim as he watches the thugs scramble and crawl to get away from him, utterly defeated.

He feels wicked. He feels invincible. He feels _alive._

_How long had it been...? _

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters right now. Every nerve is hypersensitive, the overload of information forcing into his brain elbowing anything else out of its way, anything rational getting lost in the maelstrom of sensation that eddies and whirls its way through him.

He later supposes that he should've been worried, that he shouldn't have taken the whole thing so lightly – it's not every day you randomly beat up some strangers is it? Well, it's not every day _he _beats up random strangers. Not like the filth would give a damn, but it's easy to make enemies. Not so easy to get rid of them.

There's a movement in the alley behind him. How he knows, he doesn't have a clue. He can't see them 'cause he doesn't have eyes in the back of his head, can't smell them 'cause the acrid stench of piss and blood and vomit is overpowering and can't hear them 'cause the drumming of the rain and pounding of his heart in his ears drowns out anything else. But he knows they're there, sure as he knows the earth goes round the sun, sure as what goes up must come down. Whatever. He's ready for them, so they can kiss _leaving here in one piece_ goodbye.

And then he whirls round, all guns blazing, ready to give 'em hell – and stops, dead in his tracks. Because his phantom enemy isn't an enemy at all. It's a kid. Their eyes lock for a fraction of a second and then the kid's off, sprinting out the alleyway like the hounds of hell are hot on his heels, and he doesn't time to call out – breathe – think – before he's alone again with only the rain for company and silence for his thanks.

And despite it all, the only thing that comes to mind is:

_Who the __**fuck **__has green hair?_

xxx

He's fumbling with his keys. It's pissing him off the way his hands are shaking like he's a druggie who's just got his fix and how stupidly_ desperate_ he is to get inside, get safe and his bloody key won't go into the bloody lock and all the while there's this churning in his gut almost like he's gunna hurl but not quite and he really, _really _doesn't want to do that on his own front doorstep 'cause this place is shitty enough without redecorating chunder-style. And 'cause he can sense the stares of the good-for-nothings loitering on the stairwell (he must have passed them on the way up. He _must've_, so why can't he remember...?) and if you give 'em one hint, one tiny sniff of weakness it'll be like a pack of hyena all over carrion. He's not dead-meat yet, god-damnit.

Yes_yes__**yes**__. _And just like that he's praising all the deities he can't believe in, won't believe in, because his key has just slid into the lock and with one flick of his wrist he's _in. _Slamming the door, locking and bolting it against the world 'cause everybody knows that's the way it is - just you against every other fucker on this miserable planet - and anyone who says otherwise is a user. Or just unbelievably naïve.

His memory is coming in fits and starts. He knows 'cause last thing he knew he was stumbling around in the dark hallway and now here he is, standing under the stark light of the bare bulb in his bathroom, hands gripping the sides of his sink and staring into a face he can't recognise. Doesn't _want_ to recognise.

_What's wrong with me?_

He looks like shit. His skin is grey and cold and lifeless, his eyes bloodshot red – like a zombie from a bad low-budget horror film. His hands are still shaking. He's stares down at them as if to say, _"What the hell are you doing?"_ like it's a betrayal of some kind – 'cause they're not supposed to move if he doesn't tell them to, _damn it_.

He hates it. Hates it so_ fucking_ much. He wants to scream. This isn't him. He isn't like this. This creature in front of him, this cold, wet, _piteous __**thing**__ – _it isn't him. Everything he's feeling broils in his gut, threatening to force its way up his throat, to crawl out of his mouth.

_Loathing._

_Disgust._

_**Fear.**_

He's curled up in a ball on his bathroom floor, huddled in on himself like he can block the world out, cheek pressed close against the cold, cheap lino. He can't remember when he last felt this bad.

_How long had it been...? _

**Not long enough**.

xxx

Author's notes:

Sorry this chapter is so short... (and that it took so long for me to write it) I was kinda planning on it being longer, but it has obviously decided not to cooperate with me. There is also a lot (slight understatement) of swearing/slang/improper use of grammar as I wanted to make it seem more 'real' - sorry if this makes it hard to understand or enjoy.

Carinya

P.s. In case you aren't familiar with some of the slang there is a handy outline below:

To chunder = to throw up/vomit so chunder-style = vomit-style

The filth = a rude term for police


	2. Step One

The funny thing about most things is that however amazing or tragic or just down-right _weird _they may feel at the time, it doesn't matter. Not really. 'Cause a year, two years down the line you probably won't even remember what made it so fucking special in the first place.

Xxx

The lecture hall was full. He could feel that sickening pressure that goes with too many people packed into too small a space. The heat, the _smell_ that radiated from them was thick in the air and pressing in on him from all sides, forcing its way and sitting, cloying, up his nose and on the back of his tongue and in the pores of his skin. Shit, maybe he should just leave. Feign illness or something 'cause he's pretty sure even if he's faking it now, by the end of this thing he fucking won't be. And he doesn't _do_ sick in public, goddammit.

Which is why he has _no idea _how he is halfway up the stairs, making his way blindly up and up into the recesses of the lecture hall. Everything inside him is screaming at him to _get the fuck outta there_ but his stupid bloody pride won't let him. This is _his _lecture so they all can just go to hell.

Somehow he's _glaring _his way through crowd like a leper with anger management issues and something inside him actually bloody _crows _at the way they practically scramble to get out of his wayand just how _easy _it is 'cause all he has to do is look at them and they're fucking clambering all over each other to get out of his goddamn way. He doesn't even need to try.

_Pathetic._

He's made for this. Doesn't know what _this _is, but who gives a shit when the sheer _rightness _of it makes his heart race and his blood sing? He's feels better than he's done in-

Shit. Shit _shit __**shit**_.

He _knows_ when he last felt this good. The realisation brings bile to his mouth. He can practically feel the lino digging into his cheek. Fuck, he can't believe he almost forgot.

_Forgot the rage and the ready-to-give-'em-hell, the thrill of victory coursing through his veins pushing him higher and higher and then the aftermath, exhaustion, falling, spiralling lower and lower and lower 'cause don't you know, stupid, the higher you go the further you fall? and the cold, wet piteous __**thing**__ on his bathroom floor and..._

**Never again. That's all that matters. **

A rush of awareness and he's brought out of his stupor like a dead man raised to life and there he is, Nirvana or heaven or whatever you want to call it, 'cause there's a fucking breeze in his face and he can _breathe_ again. It's then he realises he's standing at the top of the stairwell _(what is it with his body moving without his permission lately…?) _with what must be a stupid, nobody-at-bloody-home look stamped on his face.

God, his thoughts are racing now, tripping over each other in haste 'cause there must be some way to salvage this, there's gotta be. He shouldn't care. Who gives a flying fuck about anyone else, right? 'Cause they sure as hell don't give a shit about you. But if you don't keep them right where you want them,_ cowed_, then you can forget having an easy life. If want them to leave you alone you gotta give them a reason to stay away. You learn lessons quickly when it's your arse in the firing line.

Shit. Gotta stay focussed. Start by closing your mouth, you fucking idiot. How intimidating can you be if you look like you're catching flies with your gob? So he shuts his trap and starts listening to what his eyes have been trying to tell him.

The first thing he notices about the guy he's been inadvertently staring at is he's a Chink. Chinese. He doesn't know why he's surprised 'cause after all this is_ technically_ a Chinese university. In China. Where there are generally a lot of Chinese people. Except that this is the only international uni in the whole damn region so why the hell is this guy here? Yanks, Ruskies, Brits, yeah sure, there's plenty – enough so he doesn't stand out in any case and that's all that really matters. They've even got Japs and Koreans, but there are a million other places this guy could be going to. Weird.

The second is that the bloke has really, really long hair. Like a girl. He can feel the smirk tugging at his lips. He realises he's staring but he doesn't give a crap. He wants that seat by the window, goddamnit and if he has to win a bloody staring contest to get it then so be it.

Interesting. The Chink in his seat (sod's law that the only seat in the goddamn hall he wants is already taken) isn't moving. Instead the guy watches him with a kind of wariness, with some kind of coiled anticipation like something feral trapped in a corner – something with claws and teeth that isn't afraid to lash out or bite or both. Not a rabbit, not docile and afraid, not like the rest of the losers he's pushed past to get here. Definitely not.

Nobody's watching them, _how he knows he can't tell you 'cause his eyes haven't left the guy in front of him but he knows it's true sure as he knows dodos is dead,_ but right now he thinks it wouldn't matter even if they were. 'Cause the worlds folded in on itself and there's nothing but them. Then the guy's _really, really black_ eyes shift almost imperceptibly – the only reason he knows is 'cause he's staring at him and he isn't afraid to admit that – and the bloke lifts his bag off the bench of the seat second closest to the window. He takes that as an invitation.

He sits down and the guy says nothing and the lecture begins and he thinks nothing more of it.

_**More fool him.**_

xxx

Shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. All he fucking wanted was a seat with air that hadn't been recycled through ten different bloody mouths and what he ended up with was some kind of… companion. It seems such a sleazy, sordid word when he says it like that and somehow in his head it's wound up sounding an awful lot like whore. Which is stupid for about a million reasons not least that fact his _companion_ is a fucking _dude_ even if he did have really girly hair and he _ain't no faggot_. You want to shag a guy? Well, bully for you, but he ain't interested _thanks very much_.

He feels like kicking the crap out of himself. _This wasn't supposed to fucking happen._ Where was his no-strings-attached new start, huh? For fuck's sake, all he had to do was get through four measly years and he can't even manage that.

_Yeah well, you said you weren't gonna start nothing either, but you still beat the shit out of those punks in the alley the other night didn't you?_

So much for that. Five months out of four years. _Pathetic. _What kind of imbecile can't even stick to his own game plan? Stay clean, stay low, and stay away. Simple. And yet he can't seem to get it through his thick head. His fucking pride, always getting in the way – it's gonna get him killed one day, he just knows it.

He doesn't know whether it's his pride or his conscience that stops him from telling the other guy to piss off or what. Either way whenever the ponytailed freak slinks into the lecture hall and slides into the seat next to his without saying a word his mouth freezes up like he's got lockjaw or something _(which he definitely doesn't have 'cause even if he avoids the quack like the plague the one thing he always has sorted is his tetanus 'cause there's no way he's kicking the bucket just 'cause of some rusty old piece of crap) _and instead of telling the geezer where to get off he just sits there in silence like the biggest doormat who ever bloody lived.

He wants to scream. _Fuck off you freak! _He doesn't like people and he ain't about to start now. He wants to go back to anonymity and solitude and stop being stalked by some guy he stared at for a bit a couple of weeks back. Oh God that sounded wrong. There's the taste of bile in his mouth and not enough air in his lungs even though he managed to snag the window seat this time and _for the love of all things holy let him not have given this guy the wrong idea. _

But he really doesn't want his first words to the bloke to be asking him whether the guy wants to get into his pants. That'd just be fucking _weird_.

So he settles for saying nothing and feeling like an arse. Fan-fucking-tastic.

xxx

It's not that he trusts the guy. He doesn't trust anyone or anything besides himself and the inarguable fact that there is always someone out to get you. Trust is a weakness, a chink in your armour and the sooner you learn that the better off you'll be. So no, he couldn't say that he trusted the stranger that sometimes sat next to him.

But he had grown used to him. The idea makes his stomach tense and his fists curl and that really bloody irritating tick in his eye play up but he can't seem to push it out of his mind. He knows it's his own fucking fault 'cause he didn't have the guts or foresight or whatever you wanna call it to just get rid of the problem but he's stuck with it now and all the should-haves and could-haves in the world won't help him now. He feels the icy fingers of dread begin to caress his spine and he fights off a shudder 'cause he _ain't _afraid and he _ain't_ a rabbit goddamnit.

He knows that familiarity is the precursor to carelessness and he'll guard against it.

Not that he was overly familiar with the guy – four weeks had passed and not one word said. He's watched him, and he's certain the guy's watched him back, but a couple of hours worth of observations are kinda useless without anything (_like a reaction – God, if the guy weren't breathing he'd of mistaken him for a statue_) to observe. The actual things he knows about the guy are probably less than the amount of times he's met him and they only share lectures twice a week. But he almost expects him to be there, slipping into the empty seat next to him that no-one else would dare to sit in and taking notes in silence like it's the most natural thing in the world. What was that saying? Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb or something like that.

So he looks over to his stranger and asks, "Name?"

The guy looks him over once with his too black eyes and simply says:

"Kon."

He nods.

"Kai." He replies.

xxx

**Author's Notes **

I have very limited knowledge of the Chinese University system, so please don't take this as real. I have kinda ended up making it up to suit the story… sorry. It's roughly based on the Scottish university system with the British one mixed in, but I didn't really get round to describing it much in this chapter.

I've also been trying to move it along a bit, but this chapter is still woefully short and not a lot happens. Sorry again for that.

And apologies that this update is so late. This story has not been cooperating with me. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

**Carinya**

p.s. This is eventually going to be a Kai/Rei fic, but I wanted to show it in a more realistic way and hence all the homophobic language and behaviour. It'll get there, honest!

p.p.s. Edit as of 31.3.11 - I noticed a word was missing in the chapter so I've put it in.


	3. Step Two

It was almost perfect: an acquaintance without attachment; a relationship without risk. That should have been enough to warn him from the start really, 'cause anything that looks that good has got to be more trouble than it's worth. He should know that better than anyone.

Xxx

The apartment is dark save for the flickering light of the television – a crappy 18-inch-square thing he'd salvaged from work but doesn't really know why. It still functions, just about, even if the fourth (and last) channel has a tendency to flicker when it rains. That isn't his problem with it. The issue lies somewhere between himself and the world he could see through the screen – and really, he has no right to resent it for that. It's not its fault he doesn't like what it shows him. So he gives up on hate for a while, at least until he remembers that it's a bloody _object _and it has no rights and it's not like it gives a shit whether he hates it or not, so then he ignores right and reason and goes on hating it anyway.

Sometimes he thinks being alone has driven him mad. It's not like it's a problem – he can bear it if he has to (_the madness or the solitude? He isn't sure which)_. He has before after all, and he will again. It's just that now there's a little voice at the back of his head that whispers that _he doesn't have to grin and bear it_. He snorts – like he'd be fucking _grinning_ anyway. That voice is stupid and naïve and unwanted and yet he can't seem to block it out no matter how high he sets the volume on the TV. He's almost surprised the neighbours haven't complained yet, but that would involve someone actually having to _tell him off _and that would mean they'd have to _grow a spine_. Hah. Like that's going to happen anytime soon.

What does the nagging voice _want _anyway – for him to ask the guy over or something? Yeah, 'cause that's not going to give the bloke _completely _the wrong impression. No, it's fine the way it is – _he's _fine the way he is. Alone, untouchable and invulnerable. Unbidden his lips tug into a wry smile at the thought, 'cause it's how he was made after all. He can't help it if '_unsociable bastard'_ is written in his genetic code.

So he slouches on a beaten down old couch in a tiny flat which isn't and never will be called home with only shitty, tinny-sounding Chinese soap operas for company and the whole of the evening yawning in front of him like a great chasm and attempts not to think of the _what-if_s and _could-be_s that his little voice offers him, singing in his ear like a devil sitting on his shoulder.

_It's going to be a long, long evening._

xxx

He and his stranger (_Kon – _his mind helpfully supplies – _his name is Kon) _would not see each other for days at a time. It was just someone to sit next to during lectures – just another barrier between him and _all those other fuckers. _It wasn't something he paid particular attention to, partially 'cause he was so used to being alone _(and liking it that way) _and partially 'cause then he'd have to acknowledge that this, whatever it was, meant more to him than it should. It should have meant nothing.

He keeps telling himself that – _this means nothing – _but that hasn't stopped him looking up expectantly into the corner of the lecture hall looking for the guy to be there, waiting in that coveted window seat. And as much as he hates to admit it, he's waiting for the moment when Kon meets his eyes and the guy's face stretches into a smirk he knows means '_nice try, bastard, better luck next time', _'cause he ain't giving up that seat without a fight, and in answer he feels his lips twitch almost like – God forbid – he wants to smile.

It makes him want to run straight out of the doors he's just walked through and not stop running 'til he's back in Russia _(which isn't home either but at least there he knows where he stands)_. How the hell has the guy got such a hold on him? He can deny it all he wants but deep down, somewhere next to the little taped up boxes labelled 'niceness' and 'friendliness', he knows that this is getting out of hand. He almost _smiled _at the guy for fuck's sake. He can't even remember the last time graced anyone with a smile and yet here he is, handing them out on a platter 'cause the guy _stole his seat?_ If it were anyone else they'd probably be in serious pain right now and he wouldn't give a damn.

Except that's the problem. This isn't 'anyone' is it? This is _Kon_ – who sits next to him without batting an eyelash and who isn't afraid to stand up to him: the guy with a girly ponytail and an aura as fierce as a tiger's who challenges him to stupid games with a look and a smirk _(one that's almost as good as his own) _and then plays to win. Kon – who somehow isn't part of 'everyone else' anymore. _Shit_. When did that happen?

"Hey, you okay?" The whisper shocks him out of his reverie and he looks over to his companion _(the word still rhymes with whore and he still doesn't know why)_ to see Kon leaning over and staring at him with worry shimmering in those weird eyes of his. Actually, he's never noticed it before but they look even darker up close, like crude oil, and they curve strangely upwards – kinda feline actually, if cats had black eyes – and he can see a faint ring around the irises –

_Shit. Too close. You're way too fucking close. Back off. _

All of a sudden all he can feel is heat – it pours from Kon's skin and washes over his face and he knows that he's too close 'cause _that's just not normal_ and he feels that insane urge again to just run, get the fuck away from here, back to Russia where everything is cold and he won't have to deal with _this, _whatever the hell this is. He jerks back. He doesn't mean to do it 'cause it's got to look weird but he's kinda glad he did 'cause he just can't stand being that close, being trapped in that warmth. His eyes flicker over to Kon. The guy's watching him, still waiting for an answer but he can't process the question because all he can think about is how warm his face is and how he's been staring into a dude's eyes for the last God-knows-how-long and how it just ain't _right_._ Crap_, better come up with something quickly before he notices –

_What? What is it don't you want him to see? You don't even know, do you?_

– but nothing is coming to mind except telling the guy to _fuck right off, _and he's pretty sure that's not going to get the guy off his back. C'mon Kai, _think_.

"Yeah." He says finally. It sounds awkward and stilted and he winces inwardly, but it's the only thing he can come up with_ (he's never been any good with words – hadn't needed to be 'cause there was always Tala right behind him like an acid-tongued guardian angel and it makes him ashamed to think that he's only just realised how much he mi-) _and he can only think that the fickle bitch herself, Lady Luck, has got his back today 'cause Kon doesn't seem to notice any of that – the guy just gives him a nod and gets back to writing notes like what had just happened didn't bother him at all. It makes his brain hurt. Why is he the only one getting weirded out by the whole thing?

Why does he get the feeling he's not going to like the answer to that question?

xxx

He's sitting in the shitty little café on the corner of campus, sipping a ridiculously overpriced coffee which tastes more like watery grit, waiting for the gap in his lectures to be over and trying to remember why he thought it'd be a good idea to escape to China, of all the places on this goddamn globe. Just 'cause it's one of the less obvious places for him to go doesn't make it safe, stupid. He knows there were plenty of reasons _– 'cause he told himself them_ _over and over, repeating them in his head until they formed some sorta sense 'cause he really can't hack the idea he did the whole thing on a whim_ – but he can't shake the feeling that he's made a terrible mistake. After Japan, China is blatantly the next place they'd look. It's too close and way too obvious – as if some idiot thought, _'well, if I can't have Japan I might as well go next door!'._ Nice work, Kai. God, it's a fucking miracle he's survived this long with thinking like that.

But it's too late to change it now 'cause if there's anything he knows about hiding it's that once you're hidden the best way to stay that way is not to bloody arse about. He should've upped sticks months ago while his fake trail was still fresh enough to keep them occupied 'cause if he so much sets foot in an airport now they'll be all over him like flies on a corpse and he hasn't got this far and gone through all this shit just so he can stroll into something that just screams '_I'm a trap! Walk into me!'_ and wind up back in that hellhole. **No fucking way.** No, it's best to stay put; he's too invested in the lie – the_ life_ – he's created to move anywhere else anyway. All he has to do now is man the hell up and deal with it.

_Even if the coffee is crap._

"Hey." He gives a start. He's known someone was loitering behind him for a while _– he's stopped trying to work out how he knows they're there 'cause he just doesn't have enough information to make it all make sense and there's only so many times his thoughts can go round in circles before his head starts to hurt_ – just wasn't expecting them to actually _talk _to him. He turns, 'cause he might as well know which freak decided it'd be a good idea to attempt conversation with him before he bites their head off. His eyes widen. It's _Kon._ That kinda makes sense – he's the probably the only guy on campus that'd have the balls to waltz up to him and attempt conversation and, if he's honest, any guy who insists in wearing their hair in a ponytail has got to be just a little bit creepy.

"Kon." He says, hoping this will be over quickly and he can get back to brooding about how badly he's fucked up his life. He directs a glare the guy's way – _just for good measure_ – 'cause he wouldn't want to give the bloke the impression he wants his company. No way.

"Can I sit here?" Kon asks _(with a smile that seems far too free and easy to be directed at him)_.

_Shit_. Is his Death Glare losing its strength? It seemed to be working so far 'cause although the place is kinda busy there's a good metre of clearance between him and the nearest mouthbreather, but maybe he's gotten rusty – and it can't hurt to have a little practise right? His eyes make a sweep of the café. Target chosen. Activating Death Glare – now! Immediately the guy gives this sound that's halfway between a squeak and a squeal and almost trips, his arms flailing in the arm like he's attempting (and failing) to fly, in his haste to scramble away. The look on the bloke's face is priceless – fixed in a mask of fear – and if Kai didn't know any better he'd think the guy was just about to piss his pants. _Sweet. _He can feel the little kick of power coursing through his veins and satisfied smirk tugs at his lips. Hell yeah. He's still got it.

"Kai?" Oh, right. Kon's still here. Damn.

"Hn. Whatever." It's not like it really matters to him. Why the guy wants to sit with him is anyone's guess, but hey – it's a free country right?

"Do you want to borrow my notes?" Kon asks. Kai looks at him like he's grown a third head. "You didn't take many notes today so I thought – "

"Why?"

"Because you weren't think about something else? Because you were ill? I don't know, Kai." There's cheek in Kon's voice and his eyes are sparkling with mischief and Kai has to resist the urge to roll his eyes 'cause he knows the guy's deliberately trying to wind him up _(and what's worse he kinda likes it, when it comes from Kon)_.

"Why bother?" They both know what he's asking. _Why are you bothering to be nice to me?_

Kon shrugs and smiles. "I saw you sitting over here and I thought 'why not?'. The worst you can do is tell me to go away."

"Okay." He says. He reaches over the table to grab the notes Kon's left sitting there, enjoying the look of stupefaction on the guy's face. _It was worth it just for that._

"That's it? Just, _'okay'_?"

"You got a problem with that?" He's got his best death glare ready and waiting, just in case Kon _does _have a problem with that.

"No, no." Kon laughs and a shiver rolls up his body as the sound reverberates up his spine and into his brain like a tidal wave. The guy has this moronic shit-eating grin on his face like he's just won the lottery and it's freaking him out just a little bit. Then Kon leans in across the table as if this is all some kinda conspiracy, still grinning like a loon, and says: "I was just expecting a bit more of a fight, that's all."

Well, _fuck. _What do you say to that?

He's pretty sure he has the exact same face Kon was wearing not three minutes ago – the '_what the fuck just happened?' _face. Kon laughs again and it's weird 'cause it doesn't feel Kon's laughing _at_ him at all, even though the guy blatantly _is_ laughing in his face.

_Is that normal?_

He has no idea. All of a sudden he feels like a fish that doesn't know how to swim 'cause he should know how to do this – he's human isn't he? It all seems so simple, so _basic_, but he doesn't even know where to start. It's never bothered him before and he's not really sure why he's even thinking about it now except that everywhere he looks there's people laughing and talking and generally making a much better job of the whole 'conversation thing' than he is. He feels the bile rise in his mouth. If he has to be like _them _then he doesn't want to be good at it.

The whole idea makes him deeply uncomfortable and he looks up at the clock 'cause he knows he has a lecture soon and then he has an excuse to get away from Kon and his laugh and this comfortable silence they seemed to have lapsed into without even thinking about it and – bollocks, is that the time? He's got ten minutes to get to his lecture and it's over the other side of campus. Just how long had he been talking to Kon? He could've sworn he'd had plenty of time when he sat down, but it doesn't matter now 'cause if he doesn't get his arse into gear _right this instant _he's going to be late.

"I'm leaving." He says bluntly and gets up to do just that. Not that it hasn't been almost, well, _nice_ but he can feel all the sly side-on glances as he starts to walk towards the door and he knows that he won't be able to bring himself to say the words – _It's been nice, Kon_ – even if the guy has gone from wearing a face-splitting grin to staring down at the table like someone just told him his cat's died. It makes him feel like a jerk and all of a sudden he's searching for something to say that'll make him seem like less of an arsehole (and he really, _really _does not want to think about why he wants Kon to think better of him), something like '_I've got to go, but it's not 'cause of you' _or_ 'I'm only leaving 'cause I have to'_ but what comes out of his mouth is –

"Hey, Kon. Do you need glasses?"

Kon's head whips up and his eyes flit across Kai's face – presumably looking for something, but he can't even begin to guess what – before the guy hesitantly shakes his head. He can't understand Kon's expression and it sets him on edge. It seems to flicker between confused and intrigued but there's something else mixed in there too, something bright and fleeting and so out of place it hurts to look at. He's almost reluctant to put a name to it 'cause it looks an awful lot like – _fear_? – and that can't be right. Guys like him and Kon don't get scared. Does that mean Kon isn't what he thinks he is? Doesn't that mean he's just the same as all the other spineless losers in this place? But that look wasn't 'rabbit trapped in the headlights' – more 'tiger backed into a corner'. If he's prepared to fight back does that make the fear alright?

He can feel a headache coming on. Too many questions and not enough answers. Not to mention too little time 'cause he should have been on his way three minutes ago and now he's going to have to run if he wants to stand any chance of making it. He walks swiftly towards the exit, paying no attention as the people part before him like the Red Sea before Moses, 'cause he's too busy trying to get away from all the questions, from all the things he can't understand – from Kon. He breaks into a jog as soon as he can feel the fresh air on his face. The burn in his muscles and the ache in his bones as his feet hit the ground make him feel alive like almost nothing else can – _God, he'd forgotten how much he lo- likes to run – _and he wills his mind to switch off like it has every time before. But today the question that he desperately wanted to ask – that he should've asked, lecture and lateness be damned – won't stop swirling around his head and it's making him dizzy and sick and _this isn't right – why this isn't right? _and he just wants his brain to shut up, _shut up,_ _**shut up! **_

'_So why are you wearing contacts then…?'_

xxx

Kon makes him confused. It's as though he's always off balance around the guy and he hates it. But even more he hates that although he's angry it's always _himself_ he's pissed at, never Kon, despite the fact that the whole damn thing is _all that guy's fault. _Did he have a sign stuck on him somewhere that says _'Please barge into my life and mess everything up!'_?

He bloody well hopes not.

He just doesn't get Kon. Why would the guy bother with him at all? He's a violent, antisocial bastard who hates just about everything, has issues with everything else and a glare that could probably melt steel. On what planet does that translate to '_ideal companion'?_ Great, and now he's made himself feel a prostitute. _He has__** got**__ to get over this word association thing._ In any case, Kon could be swanning around with anyone he goddamn pleases. Yeah, so he's a bit of a creep (what with the whole loitering thing) but one you start talking to the guy he's all smiles and friendliness and charm, and who in their right mind wouldn't want to hang around that? Which all in all leads to the rather disturbing conclusion that Kon actually _wants _to be around him, which leads in turn back to point number one. Point number one being that he's a thoroughly unlikable kinda guy, and it seems more than strange that a guy like Kon _(pleasant, cheerful, nice to be with) _would willingly spend any time with him _(grumpy, taciturn, scares random strangers for fun_). Maybe it's one of those opposites attract things?

_Oh dear God, he did __**not**__ just think that. That's it. No more Chinese soap operas for him. _

There _has _to be a reason _(one that doesn't sound like it's come straight from a middle-aged housewife's brain). _Thing is, there's no way he could even take a guess at what's going on in that head of Kon's 'cause even though they met over a month ago he knows that they're little more than strangers. They've only had one conversation that's lasted longer than a minute, for fuck's sake. _He needs more information. _If only there were some way to get to know more about Kon that didn't involve having to actually play nice and_ talk_ to the guy.

Inspiration hits him like a bolt of lightning and once it does the answer seems so startlingly obvious he's almost ashamed that it wasn't obvious in the first place. _The university keep a record of every single alumni on campus. All he has to do is read Kon's file!_ He knows there's an internet café on the other side of town from his apartment and a forty minute walk from campus 'cause he passes it on his way to the supermarket. It's public, it's not out of his way and, best of all, it's right opposite the largest tube station in the city. There's nothing to link him to the crime (_it feels weird calling it that but it's not exactly legal and it's not like he can call it 'the job' anymore). _It's perfect. All he has to do now is wait.

His lectures the next day go by in a haze of anticipation. All day there's this weird ache in his throat and in the middle of his chest, almost like nausea but he knows he's not going to be sick, and he can't be still – twice he's found himself tapping his fingers on the desk even though he never, ever has before – and the time is just not going fast enough. He's almost tempted to hack into somebody else's account and use one of the computer labs on campus but it feels kinda wrong to pin the blame on a stranger for the sake of convenience _(and that was always more Tala's style than his anyway)_. He doesn't need a scapegoat. He's good enough not to get caught.

As soon as his last lecture is over he goes straight to the café 'cause he can't stand to wait any longer. He needs to know _now, goddamnit. _He walks straight in, checking the positions of the CCTV as he goes, and orders a coffee – black, no sugar. He then chooses a booth out of sight of the cameras with his back to the wall, so he has the whole place in his sights, takes a sip of his coffee (not bad) and stops.

_Breathes._

_Prepares himself._

**Let's go.**

He hasn't had to do this is in months but as soon as his fingers touch the keys it all comes rushing back to him like the knowledge was just lying there all along, dormant but not lost. Best place to start is probably the philosophy department records 'cause the smaller the data set the quicker the search and he really doesn't want to go trawling his way through everything if he doesn't have to. It's messy.

_Search "Kon":_

**No items found.**

No items? But Kon is _in_ his class. He sits next to him twice a week. _He_ _has to be there. _Unless… If he only sees the guy twice a week… He's not a philosophy student. _Jesus Kai, how out of practice are you? It's been staring you in the face since day one!_

Okay, right; so he's not a philosophy student, or at least it isn't his main subject. What now? There are so many different degree combinations it'd take too long to search through them all – he's paid for use of the computer for two hours 'cause any more would look suspicious, but at the rate this is going he's starting to believe it might not be enough. The humanities list then. Most likely partner for a humanity is a humanity, right?

_Search "Kon":_

**No items found.**

What about Arts?

**No items found.**

Sciences, then. Unlikely, but he doesn't have many options left.

**No items found.**

Shit. Shit_shit__**shit**_**. **The more he looks the more he's sure – there is no student, past or present, with the name Kon. The bastard _lied _to him. And that shouldn't hurt, but it does.

xxx

**Author's Notes**

I have tried very hard to move this story along in this chapter and also make it a bit longer and I think I have succeeded on both counts :D

And they have actually had a conversation! Cor blimey, I _have_ outdone myself XD

Having said that I'm not sure about this chapter in general – there's just something about it I'm not happy with. However, since I can't pinpoint what exactly that is (and I really don't want to rewrite a whole chapter on a vague feeling that may just turn out to be author's dissatisfaction) I have posted it as it is. Sorry if it's not very good D:

So, on that note, I just wanted to say thank you to anyone and everyone for taking the time to read this little ole fic :)

**Carinya**

**p.s. **I don't actually know anything about the process of hacking, so sorry again if any of the details are incorrect.


	4. Step Three

"_**Fuck this world and everyone in it."**__ Hiwatari Kai_

Xxx

He leaves the café on autopilot – but that doesn't mean he's careless. He's never been able to afford to be and that doesn't stop now just 'cause… just 'cause… 'cause some _punk_ managed to pull the wool over his eyes.

Well, at least he found out.

**Wait.**

_What the fuck is he thinking?_ He sounds like some wet bitch who's just found out their good-for-nothing husband is really a cheating, lying, good-for-nothing husband. 'At least he found out'? Fuck that. That bastard deserves to rot and hang and _decay_ for what he's done and that's just the start of what he wants to put the dirty little piece of scum through. Nobody – fucking _nobody _– has ever lied to him and survived _intact._ He's made bloody sure of it and he bloody likes it that way too. No, this 'Kon''ll get what's coming to him, just like all the others. Just a matter of time.

It's then he feels the crowd swell around him and he realises he spent far too long in the café. Way more than he planned to but, hey, he wasn't to know the guy who's been semi-stalking him for the last couple of months wasn't who he said he was, was he? Maybe he's been out of the job too long but generally when a stranger gives you their name you don't have much reason to doubt that they're telling the goddamn truth about what they're called. Except if your name is Kon, obviously. That bastard.

Just thinking about the guy makes his teeth grind and his head pound and he hates it. Fucking hates all of it 'cause it's all getting way out of control. He's being swept along with the crowd now, carried along by his feet, and that's out of control too and it's making him nervo- **uneasy**. The people swirl around him, a mass of dark hair and drab clothing that's almost sickening if he looks at it too long but it's better to be looking where he's going, trying not to get caught up in the mass of people than it is to get caught up in what he's feeling right now 'cause there's something churning in his stomach that's not rage and weirdly, that scares him more than it would if it _were_ rage 'cause he can't analyse it, can't break it down and make it go away and the more he pays attention to it the more it's there, waiting and lurking and rolling around inside him and he wants it to go away, go away, _go away-_

He's pushing through the crowds of people, desperately reaching for something he doesn't he even know. Everything feels heavy and it feels like he's pushing through treacle – he's wading through drab tones of black and grey and brown with no end in sight – then suddenly there's a spark of colour out of the corner of his eye that almost hurts 'cause it's so bright, so red like blood and chaos and pain and…

_Wait, __**red**__? Oh shi-_

xxx

He's back at that bastard mirror again, back in the stark light of that same bare bulb. Don't ask him how he got here, 'cause he doesn't know –and to be frank – he doesn't give a shit. The last thing he remembers is that damn flash of red and then – _nothing_. That should probably bother him, but thinking about it makes his head swim and he can't deal with that, not with all the other crap in there he needs to sort out. He's here now, that's all that matters.

And now that he's here, back with his ugly-arse reflection, it's almost like nothing has changed. 'Cept it has 'cause instead of the Zen-like nothingness he wants to feel, he _should _feel, he just wants to fucking punch something _(Rei-Tala-Bryan-any one of them will do)._ This isn't him, goddammit. Fuck all this anger and pain and betrayal bullshit!_ None of it matters. _You're born alone and then you die alone so you may as well fucking_ be_ alone in the meantime. And really, he can't believe he ever forgot it 'cause it's not like it hasn't been beaten into him over the years.

It doesn't matter. He won't make that mistake again. _He doesn't plan on living that long anyways. Just long enough. _

**Enough.**

None of it matters. Time to forget everything but what he came here for 'cause if he can't get his fucking act to together there was no point coming to this god-forsaken place and surviving the losers and the lies and the shitty dirt-coffee in the first place. He's come too far to waste it all by being a pussy. In fact he's wasted far too much time already. He's laid low for long enough – so what if it wasn't in the original plan? _Time to get serious._

_Can't let the old bastard win, after all._

The face in the mirror glares back at him. He looks bloody scary and he likes it. He can feel his shark-grin spreading and a chill like ice seeping through his veins and finally – _finally _– he is still.

He is calm.

**And he is Phoenix again.**

Xxx

He knows Kon is going to come looking for him sooner or later. He's counting on it. So the little bastard isn't who he says he is? That's fine. Fucking fantastic actually, 'cause now he knows the guy's weakness – _the chink in his armour _– he's gonna expose it, twist in the knife and rip Kon right open and really, it's no more than the lying freak deserves.

_He shouldn't have had a weakness in the first place. _

Xxx

The first warning he gets is a presence behind him –_ thanks,_ _fucking weird-arse spidey-sense_ – and then there's a punishing grip on his arm, blazing hot like an inferno, and all he can think is _it's about time. _He knows who it is and he doesn't give a shit, just lets instinct take over, 'cause he's been wanting to clock the guy since he find out who he was, or rather _wasn't_ – screw the rules and campus security and everything else that'd get in his way 'cause there's something about the guy that puts him on edge and he _fucking deserves it_.

There's no adrenaline this time, no rush of power or elation – just motion and reflex and reaction and above all a sense of cool satisfaction 'cause this is what he was _made for _– and then that familiar jolt of pain ripples down his arm and tears into his muscles and spikes into his bones but it's not right and it – it's too short, too soon and jolt of uneasiness hits him 'cause he knows what he is_, what he's been made into,_ and there's no fucking way...

Kon shouldn't have been able to stop him. But he had. _What the fuck's going on?_

There's heat everywhere. Kon's grip is almost painful on his left fist and his right upper arm and he would swear it's actually burning where the guy's touching him. The air's scalding all along his chest and face 'cause there can't have been more than an inch between them and he gets the feeling he should be more freaked out about that than he actually is, but it's getting hard to _breathe_ let alone _think_ so all that's gonna have to wait for later. All that he's capable of right now is staring in disbelief into Kon's freaky eyes and wondering why they scream of fear.

Then it all comes back to him in a dizzying swarm – _this is the enemy you idiot, stop staring into his eyes like a mooning homo and get away, get away get away! _It's too warm and the heat is clearly making him go a bit crazy 'cause for the tiniest second he thinks he doesn't want to. And there's _everything_ wrong with that.

He wrenches his arm viciously from Kon's grip just as the guy lets go of his fist.

"What the fuck was that? You shouldn't have been able to do that!" He hisses. His tone is low and dangerous and he knows if this were anyone but Kon they'd have pissed their pants by now. But this is _Kon _– the tiger-rabbit with claws and teeth and fear in his eyes, who can stop him mid-punch and likes to beat him to lectures just to piss him off – so he doesn't run away, even if there's something in his eyes that says he'd like to.

"Shit." Kon whispers. He looks straight at Kai, and in that moment Kai help but feel like he's being weighed or measured or something and he doesn't like it. Not at all. Not when those freaky eyes seem like they're staring right through him. "We can't talk here. Do you know somewhere safe?" Kon says finally.

Well, isn't this interesting? So the guy isn't a novice after all. No whispering, no acting shifty, no drawing attention to himself. Better at this 'being in hiding' business than Kai would've thought. And there's no doubt he's in hiding now – which means that maybe the guy hasn't lied to him at all and no matter how hard he tries to suppress it he can't stop the flicker of relief at that thought. _Maybe he won't have to hurt the guy too bad, after all._

Except that now, Kon stupid trusting fool that he is he's given Kai the perfect opportunity to take the guy somewhere isolated and quiet and ain't that just peachy? 'Cause the way he sees it he owes the guy at least a punch to the face for all the stress he's put him through and if he can get more information on Kon he can use in the interim, then that's just fine with him.

He doesn't let it show on his face though. It's the first rule of the game – don't let the enemy know what you're thinking. Don't give them anything 'cause they can and will use against you – he's learnt that the hard way and he won't forget it. _(Except he already had, 'cause what had possessed him to give the guy his real name in the first place?)_

Instead he watches the guy blankly, guardedly, before giving his a swift sharp nod and jerking his head in the direction of the campus gate. Then he turns and walks away, leaving the words _'follow me' _hanging behind him. Here's hoping the guy isn't a total idiot and gets the message.

Apparently Kon isn't a complete moron 'cause it takes all of five seconds before the guy falls silently into step beside him. Still, what part of '_follow_ me' didn't he get? He shoots the guy a glare which he hopes expresses his dislike of both Kon and the way they're walking right now. Side by side. Like _friends. _Just the thought makes him shudder in disgust. He doesn't have _friends._

"It makes me feel less like a stalker this way." Kon says, startling Kai out of his reverie. Shit, he must have caught the glare and… understood it? _No way… _Kon just grins at him. "Unless you like being stalked that is?"

He takes it back. The guy's an imbecile. He never should've…

He shakes his head, 'cause there's no point thinking like that _(and if Kon thinks the head shake was some fond gesture the all the better to lull him into a false sense of security before he strikes) _'cause it's too late. No point in 'what if's now. He's made his bed and he'll lie in it. He's the Phoenix of Samara* goddammit and if he can't rid himself of this one little threat then he doesn't deserve that name anymore.

_Enough. No more thinking. The time for that is over. All that's left to do now is act._

Just as soon as they get back to his flat. Timing is everything, after all.

Xxx

Kai turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open. The hallway is dark, but Kon doesn't seem bothered by it. He doesn't even bother looking for the light switch. He just walks right in and heads straight for the living room without even bothering to wait for Kai. Interesting. The guy clearly isn't intimidated by him at all. Then he remembers how easily Kon blocked his punch and the power that he felt coiled in Kon's muscles and thinks that maybe the guy doesn't have a reason to be, not physically at least.

He shuts and locks the door behind him anyway. Just in case.

When he gets to the sitting room the first thing he notices is that Kon hasn't bothered to turn the light on. The second is that he can just make out Kon's silhouette through the gloom sitting bolt upright, unmoving, on his sofa. God, could the guy get anymore freaky?

"You like sitting in the dark Kon?" He says casually as he flicks the light switch.

"I honestly hadn't noticed." Kon replies with a shrug.

The words are out of Kai's mouth before he has time to think about what he's saying.

"There's something wrong with you, you know that?"

Kon flinches. Then his face sets in a picture of nonchalance so fake that it makes it look like it's about to break and Kai curses himself inwardly. Usually he wouldn't give a flying fuck about the freak's feelings or anyone else's for that matter, it's true, but that's not part of his plan today. His way hadn't worked. Bryan's way hadn't worked. It was time for Tala's way. And Tala's way involved pretending to give a damn. Pretending to be human. Too bad he was shit at both.

"I didn't mean…" He starts. _Ah, fuck it. He's no good at this touchy-feely crap anyways. _"Look, you forced me to bring you here for a reason. You gonna tell me what that was?" He asks pointedly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall and deliberately ignoring the disgusting floral wall paper caked in grime and what it must be doing to his jacket. For a look of cool superiority and freaking out his 'guest' a little, sacrifices could be made.

Kon looks around the room, gaze like a searchlight. "You sure this place is safe? It's just… You know." He makes a loose gesture towards his ears. Kai lets out a snort.

"Kon, if the people who were looking for me had actually found me, you can bet your arse they wouldn't screw around putting bugs in my shitty flat."

Kon visibly relaxes. _Maybe he's better at this 'Tala's way' thing than he thought._

Shit, actually, maybe he gave away too much. He's pretty sure that Kon didn't know there were people looking at him but then again, why would the guy worry about the flat of someone _not _mixed up in something dangerous being bugged? _Unless he's naturally paranoid. It's not necessarily a bad thing._

"You're wondering how I managed to stop you, right?" If it's a question, Kon doesn't wait for an answer. "Um, well, I'm not… exactly…" He takes a deep breath as if to steady himself. "Human."

Then he sits there, staring at Kai as if he's an atom bomb waiting to go off, chewing his bottom lip. Kai doesn't care.

"Okay." Kai says easily. "So what are you?"

"Okay?" Kon's eyes look like they're about to bug out of his head. "That's it?"

Kai shrugs and then looks at him pointedly. "What do you know about me?"

Rei gives him a wide-eyed look of surprise. "Nothing, really… I mean, you're in my lectures and stuff…"

"Cut the crap, Kon." Kai interrupts him bitingly. "You wouldn't be telling me any of this if you didn't have something on me, so give it up. _What do you know about me?_"

"You aren't who you say you are." Kon says softly. "Or, you are who you say you are, but that's not who the university thinks you are."

_Is that it? The guy's picked some locks and gone looking for my file. Big deal. Except… __**I told him my real name. Fuck.**_

"Who you _you _think I am?" He asks. Maybe Kon hasn't pieced it together yet. Maybe he just knows that Kai's in hiding and is hoping to use that against him.

"Hiwatari Kai, heir to Hiwatari enterprises." Kon replies calmly. _Shit. No such luck._

"So what do you want?"

"News coverage." Kon's face is determined. "I know that Hiwatari enterprises own at least three media companies in China and hold a 63 percent share in the Korean market, even more in Russia. I want to get my story told."

"And what makes you so sure I'll help you?"

Kon smiles, and it's beautiful and savage all at the same time. "Because I'm going to help you."

Kai bursts out laughing. He can't stop either, not until he's reduced to bending over, gripping his stomach in agony. Out of the corner of one of his tear-filled eyes he can see Kon looking a lot like a lost puppy, unsure of what he's done wrong. A fool! The guy's an imbecile!

"You're going to pledge yourself to me? You don't know what I want to do. You _certainly_ don't know me. I could ask you for anything." He crows.

"You could." Kon agrees. "But you couldn't _make _me do it."

Kai's almost ready to laugh in his face again, but manages to reel himself in just in time. Let Kon think that. He can't make him physically – they've already tested that one out after all, back on campus – but Kon hasn't seen half the weapons in his arsenal yet. Let him think he could weasel his way out if he wants to. Kai knows better.

"Okay, Kon." _Whatever you say._ "That is your real name, right?" He asks casually.

Kon nods. "Kon Rei." Judging from the way the guy said his name earlier he's guessing Rei is his given name.

"So… Rei." The name feels foreign on his tongue and even weirder in his head. "I just have to get your story in the newspapers and you'll help me with whatever I want?"

_Shit! He didn't mean it like__** that**__ but hearing the words come out of his mouth makes him feel a little bit sick 'cause he sounds like he's coming on to the guy and that's not what he meant at all! He can feel the panic rising a little in his throat and tries to squash it down 'cause he can't let Kon see him like this. He just can't! He is in control. He will not panic._

"Well, not _anything._" Kon says musingly. He doesn't seemed to have been aware of Kai's little minor breakdown, thank fuck. Then Kai notices with growing horror the cheeky grin growing on Kon's face. "But I think we can work out all the kinks a little later, don't you?" Kon smiles mischievously.

Against his will he feels his face go hot. This is disgusting and wrong and _Kon is flirting with him_.

"I haven't agreed to anything yet, so there might not be any working out at all!" He snaps, flustered. "I want to know exactly what you are before I agree to this."

Kon's smile fades just as rapidly as it appeared and Kai hears a quiet sigh. "I suppose I can't avoid it, huh?" Kai just glares at him. "I'll take that as a no. I'm a neko-jin."

A pause.

"A cat-person?"

"I _know_ what 'neko-jin' means." Kai bites out, irritated.

"Oh, right." Rei runs a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Well. Um, we're a type of human – pretty rare actually – called _homo pathera?_ They think we might be more closely related to Neanderthals than modern humans, actually, based on our skeletons and dietary needs and stuff but we don't look too much like them otherwise…" Rei trails off, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm babbling. I'm not really used to talking about it." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "You asked me once whether I needed glasses. You were right – I do wear contact lenses, but not for the reason you think."

Kon lowers his head and brings a hand up to swipe swiftly across his eyes. It all happens so fast he almost thinks he imagined it but when Kon looks back up at him instead of fathomless black Kon's eyes now shine gold and in his outstretched palm lie two black-irised contact lenses, still glistening wet. Kai watches it all in silence fascinated. Either this is a ridiculously elaborate lie _(which he's finding harder and harder to believe) _or the guy's actually… Telling the truth.

"I know you're probably finding it hard to believe me right now..."

"No, I believe you." Kai cuts him off. With all the crazy shit he's seen, with what has been done to him and with what he is, who was he to say what was possible or not? And it certainly was possible that Kon was telling the truth, "Or at least, I believe that _you_ believe that you're telling the truth."

"That's good enough for now." Kon shoots a shaky smile in his direction. "It's more than I was expecting actually." He picks himself up off the sofa and brushes himself off. "I don't think we're going to get any further today. Not before I prove to you I'm not a crackpot junkie or anything anyway."

Kai says nothing to contradict him.

"Come with me after our lecture on Friday." Kon continues. "I'll show you my people, so you know I'm not a lunatic, and you can let me know more about your mysterious plans so I know what I'm signing myself up for." He sticks out his hand in Kai's direction. "Sound like a deal?"

Kai pushes himself off the wall with his foot and shakes it firmly. "Deal."

Xxx

There needs to be some adjustment to the plan, 'cause he's only got to where he is – w_as – _by learning pretty damn quickly that it was good to be flexible. No point sticking to a plan that no longer fits the situation, that doesn't take into account new facts or ideas or people. It's stubborn, prideful thinking like that which'll get you killed one day.

He has Kon now, and that flash of red in the crowd means that his favourite red-headed devil is skulking around somewhere too. And where he goes, Bryan won't be too far behind which means three extra variables for him to factor in – which makes things tricky, but not impossible. Well, never let it be said that he doesn't like a challenge. He feels his shark grin spreading again and he doesn't even try to keep it in check. This is going to be… engaging, at least. _It's got to be better than more Chinese soap operas…_

First things first though – don't let yourself get ahead of yourself, moron. Better do some recon – no point trying to factor in the devil-some duo if he doesn't know where he stands with them. Decision made, he heads to the payphone two blocks away and hopes to high heavens that Tala hasn't changed their emergency number.

Time for him to organise a little get together.

Xxx

As he walks into the internet café on the other side of campus he can feel the familiar churn of apprehension in his gut. It's reasonably busy, which he expects for this time of day, and a quick scan of the seats while he waits to order – _coffee, black, no sugar_ – informs him that he's the first to arrive. He sits himself down in the booth furthest away from the door and just round the corner (conveniently hidden from view of the security cameras 'cause it never hurts to be cautious) and waits. He doesn't need to tell Tala where he is – he knows he'll make the same calculations he's just made and come to the same conclusion – this is the safest spot in the café.

He's wearing his irritating baseball cap again and while he knows it's best to cover his face and hair _(too distinctive by half, why didn't he just re-dye it?) _it's pissing him off the way it cuts into the corners of his vision and pushes strands of hair into his eyes. It wasn't too bad for the first ten minutes or so now but now it's really getting on his nerves.

He risks twisting round to get a quick glance at the clock behind him. Tala is late, but he was expecting that. The guy loves to try and get under his skin and unfortunately knows Kai well enough to know that he fucking hates people that waste his time. It makes him grit his teeth just thinking about it. He's halfway through his coffee and it's getting cold and a little bit disgusting and he's almost ready to ditch – but his partners in crime are already almost half an hour late and even Tal, stubborn annoying bitch that he is, won't let him wait much more than that. He just has to be patient a little longer.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice says in crisp, perfect English from behind him. He allows himself a small quirk of his lips. Right on cue.

"No, not yet." He replies, giving their standard response without looking up. He doesn't want to face them yet. He knows who it is and forgive him but he doesn't want to face the guys he hasn't seen – _he abandoned_ – nearly a year ago like this, peaking up from underneath an itchy, tasteless baseball cap like a fugitive slimeball. Call him a coward, whatever.

Then slowly, inexorably, he sees Tala slide into the other side of the booth. He follows them with his eyes, one after another, shocked at how… _same_ they look. He doesn't know what he was expecting. With all that's happened and him not there and the distance and time and everything between them… What did he expect?

_For them to fall apart? No sleep, forgetting to eat, all of that melodramatic crap?_

**Fuck no. **

They're better than that.

"I like your hair." Tala says blithely, startling him out of his reverie. "It's very…" There's a pause and then he smirks. "Old lady. No I like it. The two tone blue-rinse look, it's very _in_, very _de jour _this year. Or so I'm told, anyway. Having said that, I think your _albino_ is showing through – just a little bit. At the front there." He waves a hand in front of his forehead mockingly. Kai snorts. If there was anyone who could make a simple wave of the hand mocking it was Tala, pompous twat that he was.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Are you quite finished?"

"Why did you call us here?" Bryan cuts in. It's the first thing he's said since arriving and Kai can tell he doesn't want to be here. That, and he's pissed off, but that's pretty much typical Bryan.

"Is it so hard to believe I wanted to meet up for a chat?" That's right, he's playing Tala's 'I'm so innocent' card right back at him. Let's see how he reacts to that.

Tala just stares at him and the calculating look in his eyes sends a tremor of thrill down his spine. Kai doesn't know what Tala thinks he knows or whether this is a bluff but he's forgotten how much this interested him playing this game of acting and timing and words. It's a shame Tala almost always wins, but that's all just part of the challenge.

"If we are indeed here for a _chat,_" (and the tone of Tala's voice told Kai _exactly _what he thought of that statement), _"_Who's your friend Kai?" Tala asks him and the smooth, honeyed tone of the guy's voice reminds him why he hates Tala sometimes. Why he was always glad his acid-barbed tongue was guarding his back and not laying into him. Tal's always been too observant for his own good, the bastard.

"I don't have-" he begins.

"Yes, yes. You don't have friends." Tala says dismissively with an airy wave of his hand. To anyone else it might sound blasé, but Kai knows Tala better than that and the undercurrent of bitterness is there, clear as day. For those who know what they're looking for. "Who is he?"

"Who?"

Tala narrows his eyes. "Don't play clueless with me, Kai. I know you too well for that. You know who I mean. The freak with the ponytail."

"Is that all you wanted me for? To ask about some nobody? You're losing your edge Tal."

"You should stop trying to play these games Kai-_kun._ We all know you'd never win against _me. _The mind has always been _my_ territory after all." Tala grins fiercly and all at once Kai is reminded of his shark-grin smiling wickedly back at him in the dingy light of his bathroom.

"He's nobody." He maintains.

Tala lets his smile- _if it could be called that_ – drop. "Whatever you say." He says disinterestedly, making a great show of examining his nails.

"What are you doing here? You're not here for me, so what is it?"

"Down to business, huh? Okay, we'll do it your way. No, we aren't here for you." The unspoken 'you'd be halfway to hell by now if we were' is clear. "We're here on a pressing matter for the boss. He's not too happy with you, you know."

"I can imagine." Kai says drily.

"He's scouring half of Japan for you and you don't want to know what he has planned for you when he finds you. And I can tell you this for nothing – it ain't gonna to be pretty."

"So what are you going to do?" Kai asks, without inflection. Tala knows what he means. _Are you going to tell him you've found me?_

"Us? Finish the job, of course." _No, you're safe… for now._ Tala sighs. "It's so much more difficult without you, you know. I don't have the patience for your line of work and we all know Bry-Bry here doesn't have the brains for it."

Bryan grunts indignantly. Tala immediately shushes him with an elegant wave of his hand. "Hush, you! It's not like you don't know it's true!"

And watching them bicker like kids, Kai has this weird feeling of déjà vu and it's like nothing has changed.

"I'm not coming back." He states firmly.

"I wasn't asking you to." Tala grins and beneath the sharpness of it Kai can see a kind of affection shining through.

_I've missed this. I've missed both of them, the bastards._

"Thanks, Tal."

"For what?" Tala asks, one eyebrow raised.

Kai snorts and shakes his head fondly. "Now who's playing clueless?"

Tala just laughs, carefree and open like he hasn't heard in years. "See you around, you irritable bastard. Try not to get too mangled without us to watch your back, huh?"

Kai simply gives him a quick nod and a shadow of a smile and leaves.

Bryan watches him go through narrowed eyes. "We should learn more about this ponytailed freak." He says finally.

"I was thinking the same thing. Kai's awfully possessive of this so-called 'nobody'."

"You're jealous." Bryan accuses.

"Maybe." Tala mutters, still watching the path Kai took out of the café as if expecting him to walk back in any minute. Then he squeals. "Isn't it exciting, Bry-Bry? My little Kai-kun is growing up and finding friends! I'm such a proud papaa~"

Bryan shoots him a seriously unimpressed glance. "You're an idiot."

"And your point is…?" Tala blinks innocently. Bryan just rolls his eyes.

"We should be working." He reminds Tala brusquely.

"So we should." Tala pouts. "Working is so boring without Kai-ki to tease."

xxx

Author's Notes:

My deepest and sincerest apologies for how long it's taken me to get this chapter out. I have no excuse but life, I'm afraid. I'm going to warn you all now that the next one might take me a while too… I have a plan for where I want this story to go though and hopefully I can stick to it!

Also, I think Kai might come across as a bit schizo in this chapter, but there is a reason for it. This chapter is the big crux chapter in terms of his attitude and change, so he is veering around the emotional scale a little bit. Hopefully it wasn't too distracting or annoying.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it,

Carinya

*Samara is an oblast (region – autonomous, I think?) of Russia which has several of Russia's largest cities. I've decided that I like the idea of Kai coming from there… So Kai now comes from Samara. XD This decision is in no way affected by how cool I think it sounds. Or how close it sounds to Sahara. Nope.


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